Orchard Picks
by paradiso
Summary: Danny/Lindsay. Their relationship as it evolves throughout the series.
1. i Granny Smith

A/N: _This is brand new territory for me, Danny/Lindsay plus this will be my first multi-chaptered piece. Be gentle please. _

**Orchard Picks**

i._ Granny Smith_

The summers of Lindsay's childhood wrap themselves gleefully around her tongue every time she bites into a crisp green apple. _Haven't had one of those in awhile_, she thinks to herself as she walks down Fifth Avenue, forensic kit in hand.

It's her second week in the city that never sleeps, and she can already feel the relief at having finally escaped Bozeman, Montana starting to fade a little. That unexplainable high that she first experienced getting off the domestic flight at the Newark Airport begins to fade as she walks past a candy store, the f caramel apples in the window pleading with her as she does so.

She ignores her sweet tooth and walks on, deciding that that can wait until later. _After_ she's done working her first case for the New York City Crime Scene Unit. A lonely feeling replaces her desire to feel the salty-sweet caramel coating her mouth (balanced out by the sour, tart granny smith) as she begins to feel a little overwhelmed by all these buildings and sidewalk vendors and yellow, checkered taxis. She finds some awful, guilty comfort when she finally reaches the scene of the crime – that famous animal conservatory in New York.

She hasn't been here before, and later regrets that her first time ever being there (ever meeting the team) was in order for her to pick apart the remains of a dead body and figure out why this poor man was torn to shreds. She condemns whatever small twinge of sadness rises up inside of her in favor of the objectivity required to do this job.

From far away, Lindsay's eyes zero in on Mac Taylor, the famous New York CSI. There's another man with him, one who she doesn't recognize and he doesn't seem too happy to see her, she notes as she approaches. Mac is polite and professional, he greets her, introduces them and then goes straight back to work.

"Hi," says Lindsay, smiling brightly, hoping to get in a good first impression on this Danny Messer that Mac has instructed her to work with.

"Hey," he replies without a hint of warmth, his eyes never once rising to meet hers.

Lindsay doesn't let that phase and her and thinks that maybe she turned the charm up a little too high. She reminds herself to be a little more subtle next time and gets down to work right away. Part of her is glad that Mac shoves her right into the middle of the investigation without a second thought, but another part of her is annoyed when she gets stuck with all the dirty jobs. Later on, when she's sifting through the repulsive excrement of the tiger, Lindsay thinks that this is just a rite of passage, it's no different from sorority initiation or the psyche test she took in order to be illegible for the job. A test of her wits. Their placing her in the middle of nowhere and telling her to survive the day – only that instead of using her instincts, she's required to use her knowledge and rationale.

She gets the results from the lab at 3:00 p.m. and excitement builds up inside of her as she walks proudly through the hallway to deliver the news.

"Nice work, Montana," says what's-his-name from the zoo that morning, scanning the results that she has given him.

"My name is Lindsay Monroe," she replies testily.

His only reply is a demeaning chuckle that speaks volumes to her, _I'll call you whatever I like._

Much to his surprise Lindsay Monroe walks right out on him, irked. He watches her a moment as she walks out of the lab and down the hallway, then his head is back in the file.

Lindsay doesn't know why she's so irritated with him, but she finds herself hoping that Mac will let her work with that other woman tomorrow (what's her name last? It's something exotic and Greek...), if only to get her away from this _Danny Messer_.

--

The next week, when she's of the clock for lunch, Lindsay takes the time to explore her surroundings. The lab is situated in the heart of the city, Fifth Avenue is a few blocks away. She decides to walk since the city transit is still a little confusing for her, and she has only just started to browse through car magazines. As she walks down one of the world's most famous shopping centrals, it feels to her as though she has stepped into some other dimension. But it's not the same new world that she thought she'd discovered when she'd been to New York as a child – visiting a now-dead relative – filled with thrills and danger (the two often overlap) and a million things she could have never imagined.

But now it just seems like... like another street in another city that she can do nothing but become lost in. She turns the corner that's home to a the massive Toys-R-Us and hopes that she never, ever has to go inside and see the same things that brought a smile to her face fifteen years ago, as a child. A tourist walks by, proudly dressed in that ridiculous "I Heart NY" shirt and Lindsay cringes and tries not to stare, lest she see herself in that same shirt with an idiotic smile on her face.

And then suddenly, a hole appears in the pit of her stomach in the same place that excitement used to call home. She wants to see something, taste something, smell something that will make her think of home and as she heads closer and closer to central park there's only one thing that comes to mind.

--

"What can I get for you, Miss?" says the elderly man at the counter when Lindsay steps into the elaborate candy shop.

She looks at his face and catches a glimpse of what the store used to look like before it was renovated (she can tell its been renovated, it doesn't look nearly as antique and beautiful on the inside as it does on the out). He's honest and genuine and doesn't care so much for a potential sale as he does maybe for sweetening her day a little.

"A caramel apple," Lindsay says softly, and the man smiles.

"Rolled it what, might I ask?"

"Um..."

"We have white chocolate, nuts, sprinkles..."

"Just caramel."

He chuckles, "Been awhile since I've heard that."

The shop is deserted except for some other man in a suit, browsing the chocolate stand, trying to pick out a box for some woman who has probably sworn off chocolate for fear of her waistline disappearing.

Lindsay's not really surprised by the emptiness, it's nearly two o' clock (lunch came late, since she was helping Stella dust for fingerprints), and it brings her a little comfort. What she _is_ surprised by, is that the storekeeper is slowly pressing a long bamboo skewer into the top of a granny smith apple (the kind she ate when she was a child and hasn't had in awhile).

"There's plenty already in the window," Lindsay says, not wanting to create any extra work for him.

"Yes well," and a saddened look crosses his face, "There's not many people who come in here for a caramel apple anymore you know. What with Belgian chocolate, Swiss delights and the occasional English bag of lemon drops taking the place by storm," he motions over to the stand in the middle of the store.

It's big and bright and a little bit overdone, and it's the centerpiece (and Lindsay is a little surprised that she hasn't noticed it all this time). The sign at the top, painted in a dark maroon reads _International Flavours._ Lindsay smirks a little at that, the people of New York wanted a cultural confectionary experience.

"I suppose there isn't enough culture in New York City already," says the man, mostly to himself and Lindsay wants to glare in disagreement.

Instead she says, "There's plenty of culture here," she reads his nametag, worn from all its years of service, "Samuel."

"Call me Sam."

"I'm Lindsay. Lindsay Monroe."

"Well then Miss Monroe, it's been awhile since I've made a caramel apple, but you know, I'm glad that now that I'm finally making one, it's for an intelligent lady like yourself."

It occurs to Lindsay that that is the nicest thing that anyone has said to her since she arrived in New York. He finishes making the caramel apple without saying a word and she watches as he heats up the clean brown liquid and then with the utmost caution (like a scientist) he dips the entire apple into the mixture, turning it gently.

He spins it when he retracts the apple, a long string of caramel extending from the pot. He twirls it continuously to so that it cools and becomes warm and tender and delectable. Lindsay watches in eager anticipation as he wraps the bottom in a piece of waxed paper, but when he goes to tie a curly pink ribbon around the top to seal it, she protests.

"It's okay, I'm going to eat it right away," she smiles.

As he hands it to her he says with the class and sincerity of the kind of gentleman that she thinks doesn't exist anymore, "Enjoy."

She walks out of the store, satisfied, and by the time she gets back to the lab, the caramel is gone, and all that's left is the granny smith. She takes a bite.

"An apple?" Danny Messer says as he intrudes upon her quiet time, "Wow, you folks in Montana'll eat anything if it's on a stick, isn't it?"

"You know, Danny Messer," she calls out after him after he's assumed the conversation is over, "There's plenty of jerks like you in Montana. Don't think that I can't see right through you."

He grimaces at her wry speech and for the first time in the week and a half that he's known her, he genuinely doesn't like Lindsay Monroe. It's not entirely her fault, he thinks, it's just that, that one wisecrack, that one grand show of feminine wit and sarcastic spark and he's taken back to Aiden Burn.

His sudden silence, his lack of a smart-aleck reply makes Lindsay think that she's said something incredibly wrong. She stumbles, opens her mouth to apologize (she's always quick to apologize), but then Danny Messer beats her to it:

"Sorry," he says quietly, and in the back of his mind, he wonders if Aiden would be proud.

"It's... it's okay. I'm sorry too," she tries not to sound to eager, but can't hold herself back, "Maybe we should start over?"

"Okay."

"Right then..." she holds out her hand, "I'm Lindsay."

He takes it, gives it a gentle shake, "Danny."

At this point, Lindsay finally notices his eyes, a brilliant blue, like the sky above New York. She tries not to blush when he gives her a little smile. She can tell it's somewhat forced, but it's laced with sincerity.

_Oh Lindsay, come on. You _just_ met him. Quit being sixteen_, she thinks to herself as Danny walks away.

After work she stops by the candy store again, picks up another treat for herself and heads home to the empty apartment and the cat she loves so much.

"Davy," she says to the cat – her constant companion since she was twenty-one and in college back home, "It's beautiful isn't it?"

She laughs at her own pretentious study of the city – bright as anything, even at night. When she finally feels tired and curls up in bed with the few sheets she has managed to unpack, Lindsay is suddenly reminded of the time she sat around a round table with a couple of girlfriends (she can't remember their faces and doesn't want to either) playing some cheap knockoff of _Trivial Pursuit_ a certain question comes to mind.

_What is the common culinary nickname name for New York City_?

She can't help but smile and think how great is that the day she discovered the place she likes best here in the Big Apple, really lives up to its name.


	2. ii Royal Gala

A/N: _You know, oddly enough, I'm not too fond of Lindsay or Danny by themselves on the show, but I don't mind them together as a couple. Which is weird. But anyone, this one's longer and has more of Danny in it. Thanks to all who reviewed and showed their support._

ii. _Royal Gala_

"Lindsay, it's beautiful," says Stella, sitting on the bed.

Eight months into her new life in New York City, Lindsay has managed to unpack all of her belongings and thus, she is able to uncover the dress that she bought back home in anticipation for an event such as the one that's happening this evening: The Policeman's Ball.

Lindsay has only ever been to two formal events in her life, her high school prom and her cousin's wedding, and thus she's not quite sure what to make of how she looks in the glittering, lavender strapless that she's wearing. Thankfully, Stella offers to come over early and fix her hair. She's already dressed when she meets Lindsay, and the younger girl can only stare at her boss – drop dead gorgeous in an ebony gown. Stella will easily be the most sought-after woman tonight (for almost every man at the party, at least).

"I know it can be difficult getting your bearings here," she says as she clips back Lindsay's golden brown tresses and then uses a curling iron to add some volume to them.

"I..." Lindsay doesn't know what to say, she doesn't even know why Stella made that comment.

"Sorry," Stella recovers quickly, "You just looked a little unsure when I gave you the invite. I know that we're kind of forcing tonight on you, but you should know that we get invited to a lot of galas, and we usually take turns going, just so we can represent the unit. But tonight it's mandatory for us all. Flack will never let hear the end of it if we don't go."

"Right. Thanks."

They sit in silence, and Lindsay tries not to stare enviously at Stella, impossibly graceful even when she's performing simple, ordinary tasks – curling hair, running tests, drinking coffee, _speaking _even.

"How are we getting there?" Lindsay asks as Stella slides the final bobby pin into place.

"I think Danny's picking us up. Hawkes too..." and Lindsay is glad that Stella turns away when she answers the question so that she doesn't notice the blush that creeps up her face.

_Jeez Lindsay, head out of the gutter_, she chastises herself and then tries again not to study Stella.

--

"Hope you have paramedics on standby Stell, I think my heart just stopped," Danny flirts patronizingly, and behind him Sheldon rolls his eyes.

Lindsay creeps up from behind, suddenly shy and afraid to know the reason why. But then Danny looks at her, notices her standing there in Stella's wake, and she feels almost vulnerable in front of his sweeping gaze.

"Hi," she looks at her feet, her silver flats – because she doesn't trust her feet in stilettos – staring up at her encouragingly.

Danny says nothing, just smiles and holds open the door of the Sedan. Lindsay is quiet next to Stella throughout the entire ride, who has just stopped staring at her with a bemused look. Halfway to the gala, Sheldon notices the faint blush that's only now starting to fade from Danny's face, and then thinks to himself, _Well this should be interesting._

--

One hour into the gala, much to her Lindsay's dismay, Stella is nowhere to be found. She's probably off dancing with one of her many admirers, the younger woman thinks.

"Montana," comes a familiar drawl from behind her, and she wants to hate herself for smiling

"Lindsay Monroe," she says only because it's a running gag that they've established, not really to correct him.

She's grown used to the nickname. Fond of it, even and she thinks the same of Danny Messer and tries not to be exasperated with herself. But then he grins again, and she's back at square one.

It's frustrating, the effect that he has on her, she scolds herself every time she feels that anticipation that sprouts in the pit of her stomach whenever she's in his company and they're outside of the lab, working a case. It amazes her how lighthearted he can be when they're sifting through a crime scene, looking for a murder weapon. And with all his flirtatious gestures and displays of interest, Lindsay finds herself utterly surprised to see how much she has changed because of him.

He's looking at her now, peering closely at her, with something in his eyes that Lindsay doesn't recognize, doesn't _want_ to recognize for fear that Stella was right when she warned "Watch it kiddo, he's a bit of a charmer that one."

"Let's dance," he takes her hand and leads her to the floor without her permission, and Lindsay thinks that (since she's usually such a control freak around him) it's nice that he's being a little forceful.

It's a slow song, of course, and Lindsay is further surprised by him when he takes her by the waist with one hand, then holds out his other for her to take. She feels a little silly when she places her fingers in his, and then places her other hand on his shoulder (wishing she'd worn heels because he's quite tall) having expected him to wrap his arms around her immediately and pull her as close to him as possible. She thinks that would've been a very Danny-Messer-like-gesture. But he's being quite the gentleman right now, leading the dance gently (he's a pretty good dancer) and looking over her head, up at the chandelier. As opposed to her_ last _ dance partner back at her high school prom, a twitchy jock whose gaze and attention went down her bra the second he laid eyes on her. Eighteen-year-old Lindsay Monroe had been thoroughly disgusted and left the celebration early, the tears for her ruined evening of enchantment slipping down her cheeks later that night.

But she thinks nothing of that, and of nothing at all, when Danny looks at her finally, midway through the dance, and before he can ask her permission to do anything else, Lindsay's hand travels up his arm, over the rippled muscles beneath his tux. Then her left hand meets her right, encircling his neck, pulling him closer. Danny is smooth, one of his many charming qualities, and so his other arm bravely but tentatively goes around her waist and his hand slides upwards to the small of her back.

Lindsay is lost somewhere when she finally gets close enough to him to lay her head against his shoulder and close her eyes, perfectly content to stay here forever.

He whispers in her ear, "You look beautiful tonight."

"_Tonight?_," she teases and then grins against his shoulder and in his cautious state, Danny is taken by completely by surprise and stumbles over his words.

"I-I mean... I didn't... you..."

She laughs because it's the first time he's been at a loss of words and she's a little proud that she is the cause for his lapse in speech, "Relax Messer. I'm just kidding."

"In any case," his breath tickles her ear, "You're beautiful, Lindsay Monroe."

She feels her cheeks start to hurt because she's smiling so widely, "That's Montana to you."

--

It's only a few more months before the wonderful place that Lindsay has lost herself in, begins to fray at the edges. It starts with a phone call, beckoning her to her hometown and back to the memory of the most horrible day of her life.

"Can you describe what happened that night, Miss Monroe?"

She supposes that she can, she just doesn't really want to. She doesn't really feel like it, doesn't feel like falling apart in this room next to a jury of total strangers (not entirely, she recognizes the lady in the front row as a former classmate and realizes just how small Bozeman is). Then she looks out into the crowd and can name almost every other person in the room. But it doesn't matter anymore because, though the parents and the relatives of those five girls at the diner are sitting in the courtroom, Lindsay isn't there anymore. She's somewhere else, far away in the past, she's in the bathroom that she doesn't want to recognize, but is all too familiar to her.

In fact, the state of nostalgia from which she cannot escape is familiar to her as well. It occurs every now and then, just like it did the other day, with Stella at a crime scene (before Lindsay walked out), at the lab when she looks at photos of dead girls that she's never met before, and yet recognizes them.

She's brought back into reality by the only person who seems capable of reaching her these days. He's all there from leather jacket to practical boots, firm step to blue eyes. Even from her place on the stand across the room, Lindsay notices that the stubble on his face is a little bit more prominent today. He looks tired and worn and suddenly she just wants to forget about the trial, run down the steps and throw herself at him.

But that's generally frowned upon in a court of law.

She feels an incredibly warmth blossom inside of her the second their eyes lock, just moments after he has entered the room, and courage surges through her when he smiles.

Suddenly, Lindsay remembers just why she's here and thinks that, the sooner that she can get this over with, the sooner she can bring that bastard to justice, the sooner she _can_ throw herself at Danny Messer. She recounts the bloody tale without taking a breath. When it's over, she can see the parents of those dear friends she once knew, and they're all crying. Lindsay wants to cry too, but then she sees Danny and his got this pride in his eyes and she realizes that it's because he's proud of _her_.

_I'm here for you, Montana_, says his smile.

Indeed he is.

--

There's a half-hour recess while the jury congregates to come up with a verdict. Then Lindsay can finally go back (go home, even) to New York City. In those thirty minutes, Lindsay takes Danny to the little café next to the courthouse, glad to be out of that room with all those people. They order iced tea and choose the booth in the corner.

Lindsay says the first thing that comes to mind after five minutes of an agonizing silence, "So how's David Bowie?"

Danny is stunned and hasn't the slightest idea what she's talking about, so she proceeds to explain, "He's my cat. My cat's name is David Bowie."

"Why am I not surprised?" Danny rolls his eyes playfully, "Your favourite high school _heartthrob_ I'm guessing?"

"Then you've guessed correctly, Danny Messer. Or you've just been talking to Stella."

"All I heard was that you dumped your cat on her for the week."

"I didn't _dump_ my cat anywhere. I was going to bring him here with me, but Stella practically begged me to let him stay with her. Did you know that Stella likes cats?"

He shook his head no, genuinely surprised, "But then, since everything about you seems to be contagious..."

He doesn't realize that he's complimented her, but he's glad when a rosy blush tints her face and she smiles shyly.

"So, did you like the card I left?" she asks coyly.

He smiles wryly and stares her straight in the eye. She freezes when he lifts his hands and places them onto hers atop the table, lifts himself up out of his seat and moves in closer to her face. She's taken back instantly to the night at the gala, and she can feel his breath on her neck, hear the music playing, taste the apple-flavoured gum she'd chewed on before to calm her nerves.

Then, when he's an inch away from her face, he turns his head slightly, brings his lips to her ear, their cheeks brushing and she finds herself trying desperately not to lean into the touch. She hears the intake of breath as he opens his mouth and then...

"Moo."

Then he's back in his seat in an instant, a satisfied smirk on his face. Lindsay doesn't know what to say, so she sits there, stunned, in awe of what he has done because not only did he just get a good laugh at her expense, but he's also made clear to her that, _Damn, Stella was right, he _is_ a charmer. _But with that one realization comes another. She likes Danny Messer. Lindsay _really_ likes him.

She feels like it shouldn't come as much of a shock to her, since that night at the gala, the last time before today that they've been so close together, she has caught herself staring at him unnecessarily, finding every possible excuse to be around him in and out of the workplace and doing everything in her power to prolong the time that they spend together, just so she could waste it thinking,_ Lindsay, you do not like Danny Messer._

But it's different now. Everything is different. He has gone and done the impossible, made her change her mind, made her look away from the practical investigator who's inside of her screaming, _What the hell is wrong with you, Monroe? Pull yourself together girl!_ Lindsay can't hear. She can't hear anything except for Danny's laughter that's deepening into a chuckle as he continues to stare at her bemused face.

He starts to apologize, but then she laughs too (mostly at herself), and since he finds that even more hilarious, he can't hold it in either. Needless to say, when their iced tea finally comes, Lindsay doesn't trust herself to take a sip without it flying out of her nose right after.

"Oh, Messer," she says between giggles, "This is _so_ great."

"You bet it is, Montana."

She laughs until her stomach hurts and her sides beg her to stop. In fact, she's having such a good time that she almost forgets that she has yet to hear the verdict, and she only comes back to reality when Danny glances at his watch.

"We should get going," he tells her and gets up from the table.

She mimics his actions reluctantly, sad that this moment has to end, but at the same time, eager to just hear that final judgment so that they can go back home _together_ and maybe find something new and exciting waiting there for them. Something that will have time to grow, to blossom more beautifully than anything she can imagine, and she hopes that Danny is looking forward to it as well.

In the courtroom, they sit in the second last row, and he holds her hand while the judge and the jury carry out all their formalities before finally getting to the part that matters most.

The decree doesn't sink in the first time, and it takes a squeeze from Danny's hand, then an arm around her shoulder, for Lindsay to realize that it's finally _over_ and that they've won.

And now for the best part.

They can finally go home.

He gets up first (for the second time that day) and there's a brief awkward moment. Then it's gone, and he's holding her again.

"I'm so proud of you Lindsay," he says, voicing his earlier expression, "You were so brave."

She wants to tell him that she really wasn't very brave at all and that if he hadn't walked into the room just when he did and looked at her with that certain spark in his eyes, that she would've broken down on the stand, right there, against all of Stella's advice. But then she thinks that maybe he knows that already, and that's why he showed up in the court.

When he pulls away she thinks, _Oh no you don't, Danny Messer. Not so fast,_ and she grips his hand harder, piquing his curiosity so that he'll turn and look at her again. Once he does, she knows that she has him, that there's no way he'll be able to resist her now. Danny stares at her and notices that shy, awkward, Lindsay Monroe is nothing but a memory now. The woman in front of him is someone entirely different then that little girl, scared and overwhelmed by the big city. The one that he'd met months ago at the park. But then he corrects himself when she smiles at him and thinks _No,_ _I met Lindsay Monroe in the lab, later on, we shook hands and began,_ and he remembers that that day she smelled of caramel and a little something else (sweet but tart) that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

There's that same scent now, but he only has a moment to realize it before she's inches away from his face, and he swears to all that is holy that if she pulls away and says "Moo" he's going to throw himself at her and not hold back. But then, even if she had wanted to pull that same bittersweet joke on him, she would've never gotten the chance.

"Miss Monroe!" there's cameras and lights and Danny wastes no time in clutching her hand to lead her out of the room.

As he does so, he's almost undoubtedly sure that Lindsay wouldn't dream of tiring out a good joke.

--

The plane ride to New York seems as uneventful as possible to Lindsay, but Danny disagrees. This is mostly because, for the entirety of four hours, Lindsay is asleep, her head on his shoulder, fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck if he leans sideways just a little. Like the night at the gala, like back in the courtroom. He smiles and thinks, _You're making this a habit, Montana._

She stirs briefly in the middle of the flight and calls out for him gingerly, "Danny?" and he's never been so glad to anyone say his name.

"I'm here sweetheart," he says without thinking and then curses himself for such an endearing word, thinking it to be too soon for any of that.

However Lindsay doesn't mind, and she keeps her head on his shoulder all the way to New York. When they arrive she steps out of the plane and thinks that this is the best day of her life. But she is mistaken because she has no way to know that two months later, she'll wake up in someone else's apartment, atop a moss green expanse of felt, her body once again cushioned against his.


	3. iii Golden Delicious

A/N: Spoilers for the season three finale.

iii. _Golden Delicious_

The world screeches to a stop the first time he kisses her.

It's late, and they're both thoroughly intoxicated, and for God's sake, they're lying on his _pool_ table, tasting and touching and exploring each other as if they'll even remember any of the next morning.

But to Lindsay's surprise, she wakes up (her nose is itchy) and can recall almost everything about the night before, maybe by coincidence, maybe because she held back a little on the alcohol to ensure that she _would_ remember. She licks her teeth and cringes because her mouth tastes like a hangover, even her head doesn't feel like it, _Well, you can't have everything._

All these thoughts, and more, run through her head before she finally opens her eyes completely and thinks,_ Oh look, it's Danny Messer._ He's staring down at her, tired and slightly unrecognizable without the stylish glasses that sit on his nose all day (and without a trademark smirk slapped haphazardly across his face).

"Hey," he says like they haven't just woken up, completely bare, on the damn pool table, two hours before she's supposed to be at work.

They have.

"Hi," she smiles and he thinks it's the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

She tells him of her dreams, and he mumbles a sleepy reply, still tired, and her words are barely registering because he didn't think they were as important as her just being there, warm and golden by his side. She doesn't seem to mind too much either, and he wonders why he woke up feeling worried just hours before. Thinking, _Shit, Messer, you've really done it this time_, once he remembered just who this dazzling beauty lying next to him was.

It's seven o' clock a.m. now, and Danny realizes that Lindsay doesn't appear to be the slightest bit upset or surprised by their situation. In fact, if anyone's surprised, it's _him_.

"Y'okay?" she asks quietly, noticing his expression.

"Yeah," his arm tightens around her shoulder, he's quick to reassure her, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up."

It's the last thing he says before she falls asleep.

It's the last time that day she sees him in one piece.

--

"What are you doing here?" asks Sid outside of the lab at fifteen to one in the afternoon.

Lindsay blushes a little, and Sid doesn't notice, but she thinks that Peyton beside him probably has a vague idea, "I traded shifts..." she doesn't mention with whom.

"Lucky you," Sid motions to the building, "Gas leak."

"Stella and Mac are still inside," Peyton adds, worry lacing her voice.

"I'm sure they're fine," Lindsay smiles a little.

But she frowns the moment they turn away. There's that feeling again, in the pit of her stomach, and she's taken back to the night at the diner. As if on cue, disaster surfaces, and Lindsay's phone beeps obnoxiously.

On the other end, Flack has never been so terrified in his life.

--

There's a couple minutes of confusion, before Adam lifts the ski masks, and Danny calls out weakly from the back of the truck. Flack doesn't try to hold her back, in fact he does everything he can to make sure that no one gets into her way when she bolts through the crowd of officers surrounding her.

"Lindsay..." he says and suddenly, there's blood on her shirt and he sounds so defeated that her heart breaks.

He cringes a little when she helps him from the truck but only partially because of the throbbing pain in his jaw and the near-unbearable sting that surrounds his fingers. Then there's that arrogant part of him, macho even in this state, that doesn't like showing weakness. But Lindsay takes on some of his weight without batting an eye, and his arm around her reminiscent of this morning, in his apartment, and suddenly Danny doesn't mind leaning on her so much.

There's shouting, he notices, and somewhere in this mess, there's Flack, barking orders, taking care of everyone, just being Flack, really. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Danny gives the other man a nod before Lindsay says needlessly:

"I'll take him."

The pain in Danny's leg subsides with every step as if by some miracle, but then he hears her voice again, "I'm sorry," and now he's confused and he wants to know what on earth she's apologizing for and whose fault it is.

"Who?" he asks quietly and then rephrases, "What?"

"We switched shifts."

"It's okay."

"It isn't. Look at you."

He lets her get by with that one, knowing that it's pointless to fight her now that she has that determined look on her face, the one that's become more and more frequent in and out of the lab.

The paramedics help him into the back of the ambulance, and Lindsay wastes no time in hopping right in, right next to him. They know better than to argue with her as well when she sits herself down next to Danny and clasps his hand. She's gentle though, more gentle than he would have imagined her in the semi-angry state that she's in now at seeing him all bloodied up. His heart warms a little at that.

They say nothing on the way to the hospital, though Lindsay looks like she'd like to. She does her best to stay out of the way of the paramedics, but protests when they ask her to move her hand.

"Montana," Danny coughs, "I'm fine, okay. I can see you, I'm fine."

She steps back, satisfied for the moment, but then turns away when they insert a needle into his arm and wait. Danny lays his head back, looks up at the roof of the vehicle, he does his best to not look at her as she stands in the corner, suffocated by the sounds of this makeshift room. Crying because just this morning, he lay in bed next to her, golden skin, eyes and hair shining in the sunlight, and for the first time, she understood the phrase _morning glory_.

But now he's broken, he's hurting, and she's in a corner about the whole thing and doesn't know what to do because she thinks it's her fault.

(She always thinks it's her fault).

Danny decides to wait until later to tell her otherwise.

--

Things don't go quite as planned, but that's something that Lindsay Monroe is used to.

What she isn't used to is hospitals. Even after all the time she has spent in and out of them – working on cases, visiting victims, that one time with Stella... Lindsay still hates hospitals. The fact that on the other side of the wall that she's leaned up against, is a broken Danny Messer who drifts indecisively in and out of consciousness as quickly as Lindsay's blinking her wet eyes, makes them both frustrated.

Still, to Lindsay, who can actually hear what's going on outside of the room (because _she's_ on the outside, she notes angrily) things seem to be going to hell quickly.

"If he's stable, why can't we see him?" Flack mutters, though he himself is completely aware of the answer.

The doctor is adamant, "We can't have too many people crowding his room. He's just starting to recover from the anesthetic, he needs to rest."

But Flack finds a way, as that's what he's trained to do, "One person. Five minutes?"

Lindsay's head jerks up, and she meets eyes with the doctor, catches a trace of sympathy lurking behind professionalism and protocol. She uses that. Takes advantage of that. Thinks that, at his age, with his position, this doctor should already be impervious to the broken-hearted stares and furious rage of any patient's family.

"Five minutes," says the doctor, and Flack tries not to smile.

The officer turns to Lindsay, who doesn't even return his glance. She's already gone, past him, past the doctor. She's in the room before either one can say anything, she has somewhere important to be.

Then she comes to Danny Messer, sees the cuts adorning his face, his arms (from when he tried to get away), the bruises at his jaw line (where she trailed kisses last night), his swollen fingers, and she wishes that she'd taken her time getting to him in the hospital room. She sees all this.

And what breaks her is the genuine, carefree smile on his face.

"Hey, Montana," he says so naturally that she can taste his grin.

"What the fuck," she hisses

He's confused. She isn't yelling, it's sort of a low whisper and he thinks that he has never seen her so angry in his life.

"Um..."

"What the-" she cuts herself off with a hand over her mouth, to cover her trembling lips.

Then she's turned away from him, and she's crying again, and he can't reach her because she's distanced herself enough from his hand to prevent him from doing just that.

"Lindsay..."

The anger ignites itself within her again, "What the _fuck_, Danny Messer."

There's a million things happening to her at once, he realizes, her heart is racing, there's tears rolling freely down her cheeks, her entire body is trembling, and she has to lean one hand against the wall to keep herself up. There's a memory that beckons to him at seeing her like this, and it isn't a pleasant one.

It's the part where he has to tell the victim's mother the truth, or the first time he saw Adam today, bleeding in the back of the truck. The part where Mac has to come to his aid, convince him that this is the job, and that everything's going to be alright.

Lindsay is breaking. In fact, he muses that she's more broken than he is.

She's feeling everything. Anger, confusion, heartbreak. Then she looks at him again, and there's a new emotion in her eyes, _guilt_.

"Oh Danny, I'm so sorry," she shakes her head rapidly, reaching out to touch him, and then pulling her hands back, "I don't know what I was thinking. Here I am, feeling so sorry for myself, when you... just look at you. How could I even _be_ so selfish I-"

"Lindsay," he says softly and thinks that she doesn't hear him but goes on anyways, "It's alright. It's okay."

"No, no. You shouldn't be comforting _me_. It should be the other way around, don't you see?"

"Not if it upsets you so much. You should go home get some rest."

"Stop. Just stop. Stop caring so much you idiot. Look at yourself," she's mildly angry again at his nonchalance to his condition, his seemingly unshakeable concern for her, "Just... let me."

He does. He lets her hold his hand, the one that isn't broken of course. He lets her sit there in silence for her five minutes (extended to an hour, somehow, the doctor informs them when he pops his head inside the door). Then, to his surprise, at a quarter to seven (which will be twelve hours since they woke up together) he starts to feel something hurt skin-deep.

He lets _himself_ go. He recognizes that he's been through hell, and that it's okay to hurt, and that it's okay to be himself around her. She looks almost relieved when a tear rolls down his cheek, but panics momentarily because she thinks he's suddenly in great pain.

"I was very scared today," he says.

And it doesn't matter what he was scared of. Regardless of that, he's telling her, he's speaking to her, opening up in exactly the way that makes him most vulnerable, the way that she can't help but want him to. She has already done the same for him, numerous times, and while he's proven himself to be extraordinary on an equal number of occasions, right now, Lindsay wants nothing more than for him to be human.

He's asleep by the time she gets up to leave, deciding not to push her luck with the doctor. Flack is right outside. He drops her off at home, and speaks vividly of the day, of how he scurried back to the lab after they freed Danny and Adam. It sinks in that she didn't hear him the first time he spoke to her of Stella and Mac and Sheldon, trapped in the lab. But now that she's confident that Danny is safe and asleep in the hospital, it finally sinks in.

"My God," she says to herself, "Don, today..."

"I know."

"We could've lost all of them."

He does not give a reply to that, decides to change the subject to Mac, to Stella, to anyone or anything that has nothing to do with the potential for death. When she reaches her door, Lindsay thinks briefly of Mac, on his way to London, Sheldon who's probably in a grateful slumber and plans to stay that way for most of the following week. She ponders upon calling Stella, then decides against it because she's late and they'd probably both be too tired to carry on a conversation.

And Lindsay needs to get up at the crack of dawn, to be at Danny's side when he opens his eyes for the second morning in a row.

--

"Should be discharged this evening," he's on his feet by noon, walking around his bed.

There's a slight stumble in his step, he walks slower, as if trying to let her know that although he's on his feet again, he might need someone to lean on from time to time.

That evening, outside the hospital on a bench, Lindsay is more than happy to oblige.

"There's a candy store on Fifth," she says absentmindedly as they watch the people on the streets.

"Is it open now?"

"Tomorrow. Let's go tomorrow. They have caramel apples."

His lip is still split, but he can't resist the urge to kiss her when she's sitting so close and holding his hand. She reads his mind and is gentle with her mouth, which only entices him further.

He speaks softly against her lips, it's not quite a kiss, but something that seems almost sweeter, "Are they any good."

"Delicious."

**fin. **


End file.
